


Imagine Me and You

by stuckysoul



Series: Imagine Me and You [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cute, Fights, Fluff, M/M, Middle School, otp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-04-21 01:28:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4809710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuckysoul/pseuds/stuckysoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve starts his first day of 6th grade a month late, and it didn't start out exactly the way he pictured it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Steve shuffled himself inside the massive doors and out of the freezing air. It was only October, but the icy chill of fall had already begun to settle into his bones. And the fact that he had been sick for the past month wasn't any help. To be honest, he was always sick. The last month had just been particularly bad, bad enough to keep him out of school. Most kids would rejoice, but this meant that Steve had to miss the beginning of 6th grade just to lie around in a hospital that they couldn't even afford. He had tried to convince his mom that he was fine, but she wouldn't have it. 

“Get back in bed. You can’t go today, I’m sorry.” Steve’s mom took her hand off Steve’s forehead and spoke softly.

“Mom, you can’t make me stay home. It’s the first day of middle school. I already look like some itty bitty 3rd grader, I can’t miss today. I’m gonna stand out like a spotlight when I walk into school tomorrow, a day late!” Steve desperately tried to make his voice sound firm and strong, but his voice was so weak he could barely get it above a whisper. He found himself leaning against the wall behind him just to keep himself on his feet. His mom just looked at him and crossed her arms. For him to think that she couldn’t see how frail he was had been a waste of his energy. He glared at her and couldn't believe she wasn't understanding him. Elementary school had been a nightmare. He had gotten beat up more times than he could count just because he wasn’t going to back down from a bully. Middle school had been the light at the end of tunnel, the second chance. Now it was all falling apart just because he was a little sick on the first day of school. All he wanted to do was storm up to his room and slam the door, but the moment Steve took his first step he fell forwards and caught himself on the table. Steve’s mom sighed and reached for his arm. 

“It’s ok, sweetie. We’ll get you better, then you will show that middle school whose boss.” She pulled him into a tight hug before helping him up the stairs.

Steve dragged himself back to the present and rounded the corner. He looked down at his schedule for the hundredth time that morning. Room 2113. He took a deep breath before climbing the stairs, avoiding the looks and whispers of the kids around him. He was panting by the time he reached the top, but he tried his best to conceal it. 

“Hello there sweetheart. What are you doing here?” Steve jerked his head up to see a young teacher smiling over him. 

“I-um-I’m looking for room 2113.” He said breathlessly. She looked at him, confused. 

“Is your brother or sister in that class?” she asked him quizzically. Steve’s heart sank when he realized what she was asking. 

“No. No, it’s my first class.” He held out his schedule in proof. She looked from his face to the paper, then back to his face. She suddenly realized the mistake she had made and looked horrified. 

“I’m so sorry. It’s just-you looked so young-“ she cut off when she realized her apology was making no difference. “It’s just down the hall and on your left.” she said with a sigh. She straightened up and turned to greet the students filing into her classroom. Steve quickly walked down the hall and then ducked into his classroom, which was right where she said it was. He took a seat in the middle, trying not to draw any extra attention to himself by sitting obviously in the back or front. He didn’t take his coat off--not because it was cold, but because he would only look smaller without it. He stared out the window while the room filled up with students, making sure he didn't make eye contact. The people who sat around him whispered and pointed, obviously noticing the new kid in their midst. At least he hadn’t accidentally taken someone's assigned seat. After what felt like an eternity, the bell rang and the teacher stood from her seat at the front of the classroom. 

“Good morning, everyone! I’d like the jump right into our work today, seeing as your test is in only three days! However, I would first like to introduce you all to someone. We have a new student today. Steve, could you please stand up?”

Steve’s face burned bright. Why do teachers ever point out the new kid on their first day of school? How does that help anybody? Steve took a shuddering breath before standing up. Whispers filled the room when he stood up to be only a mere four feet tall. Steve’s teacher hardly looked fazed. 

“So, Steve! What brings you to Ebbets Field Middle School?”

“I-uh-“ Steve stuttered and tried to think of a way to answer. He would have been here a month ago if he hadn’t relapsed and almost died? No, too weird. He’d been on a fabulous vacation to the Bahamas? Nope, too easy to prove wrong. 

“I’ve just been-um-busy the last month.” Steve mumbled out as quietly as he could without whispering. He looked away from his feet just long enough to see people around him scrunch their eyebrows in confusion. His teacher, thankfully, didn’t press for more, and told him sweetly that he could sit. 

“I’d like everyone to be kind to Steve today. First day’s can be scary, especially now, in middle school. Now, if you’ll all please pull out your books…” Steve had already sat hurriedly down in his seat and turned to look out the window. He subconsciously heard the rustling off backpacks and zippers to retrieve books, and Steve reached for his own to follow suite. It was then he realized he didn’t have any of his books yet. He looked to the front of the classroom to try to catch his teacher’s eye, but she had already turned to the whiteboard and begun the lesson. The thought of interrupting class to ask for a book filled him with anxiety, so he just went back to looking out the window. He could get his book after class.

The ending bell rang shrilly throughout the school, and everyone made a beeline for the doors. Steve walked quickly down the hall, desperately trying to keep up with the massive swarm of anxious kids. Steve fell behind, despite his best efforts, and turned his energy towards trying his best to avoid getting trampled. He waited, hunched up against the wall, for the crowd to thin. He zipped up his coat and ducked his head down into the collar before facing the chilly air. His backpack, now laden with books and homework, slowed him down exponentially as he started the slow walk home. He began to think through his day, trying to determine how it was so that he could accurately describe it to his mom later. Just as he stepped off the curb and headed towards his street, he heard the distinct sound of a fist crunching against someone's face. He heart lurched and he froze in place to listen. A moment later a shout rang out from whoever got punched. Steve felt anger boil through him as he briskly stalked toward the noise. He turned down an alley and saw two massive 8th graders standing above someone laying in the mud. The kid looked to be just as small as Steve, not even in middle school. His nose was bursting blood from where it had been hit. One of the 8th graders raised his fist again and the young boy screamed. Steve impulsively reacted and dashed forward. He used all his body weight to try and shove the man out of the way, causing his fist to swing and miss. 

“Leave him alone!” Steve shouted furiously. The two boys turned and looked down at him angrily. When they saw how small he was, they burst out laughing. 

“Hey Brock! We’d better get out of here, I don’t think we stand a chance!” one of them said, barely containing his laughter. Steve jumped in between the two boys and the kid lying in the mud. Brock stepped towards Steve, still chuckling, not about to let Steve ruin his fun. 

“I think I’ll take the risk.” In the blink of an eye, he slammed his fist directly across Steve’s face. Steve’s small frame flew sideways from the force of the punch and he crashed into the side of the alley, slumping to the ground. He wasted no time in jumping to his feet, refusing to show any pain. He raised his fists, taunting him. 

“If you are so keen in taking the risk, then come over here and fight me.” He growled. Brock smiled and stepped around the small kid, who was now attempting to stand and make his escape. Brock ignored him and continued towards Steve. Not waiting for him, Steve jumped forward and swung his fist out, aiming for the nose. Brock stopped his arm mid air with ease before swinging his right arm around to sock Steve in the skull. Steve crumpled to the ground, spots swarming in front of his eyes. Steve clenched his teeth and stood again, doing his best not to sway. 

“Looky here at Mister Big Shot. Not gonna stay down, are you?” 

“Not as long as I can stand.” Steve spit out and swung his fist again. Brock ducked and then sunk his fist into Steve’s gut. He leaned close to Steve and snarled into his ear. 

“We can fix that.”  
Steve gasped, his breath completely knocked out of him. Brock held him up against the wall by his chest, pushing hard and not allowing Steve to breathe. Steve choked and kicked out, managing a swift kick to his shin. Brock dropped Steve and howled. Steve landed on his hands and knees and struggled for breath as his vision cleared. He did his best to quickly regain his position of standing before Brock turned back to Steve with fury in his eyes. 

“No more mister nice guy.” Brock grabbed a handful of Steve’s hair, causing him to yelp. He felt his body get lifted up before his head was smashed against the brick wall behind him and the world went dark.

\---------------

Steve woke up in a pool of his own blood. The sky was dark and the alley was empty. The bullies had left their handywork and were nowhere to be seen. With a cough and a sputter, Steve spit his mouthful of blood into the dirt and attempted to sit up. Spots swam before his eyes as the blood rushed to his head and he nearly passed out again. Using all his force, he slowly managed to prop himself up against the wall. He calmly began to take inventory. Feet, ankles? Check. Legs? Check. Stomach? A little achey from the punch, but otherwise ok. Chest and arms? Check. Head? Head. Head was bad. Steve felt his face softly with his hands, wincing in pain. Both eyes were puffy and tender and one was swollen nearly completely shut. His lip was cut and bleeding slightly. The top of his head had massive bump and was trickling blood, and the back of head was severely painful. He could feel a long gash under his hair that was oozing blood, but the blood around him proved that it had bled a lot more several hours ago. Steve sighed after he finished his check. His legs and ankles were fine, so he should be able to walk home. The hard part was standing up without puking. He gathered his strength and began to reposition himself. With a deep breath, he lurched to his feet and then fell against the wall. His head began to throb violently and and his vision blacked out for a moment. He concentrated on keeping his breathing steady and even as his eyes slowly cleared. He waited a minute before taking his first steps. He had to lean heavily against the wall, but he could do it. He glanced up to the sky and tried to figure out what time it was. He guess about eight, which meant he could still get home without having to face his mom. He knew she had her night shift tonight, so she wouldn’t be back until late. Steve quicked his pace as much as he could and worked his way home.

\---------------

Steve winced into the mirror the next morning. He didn’t even recognize himself. Both eyes were black and still slightly swollen. More bruises and cuts riddled the rest of his face. You couldn’t see the bumps under his hair, but they were throbbing painfully and his head felt like a time bomb. Nothing was going to keep him from going to school today though. He dove under his bed and pulled out an old lunch box that he kept for the times he got into fights. It only took a few times of his mom flipping out over all the bruises that he realized he needed to find a better way to hide it than just a hat. He rushed into the bathroom across the hall and locked the door behind him. Flipping open the box, he scanned the contents. Inside there sat several different types of makeup that he had collected through the years. He pulled out the concealer, which he had found works best and looks the most like his regular skin. He dotted it gently around his eyes and other bruises. After carefully blending it in, he pulled out the powder. His face looked like it was soaked in grease without it. When he was done, he surveyed his handiwork. The bruises were still visible, but only if you knew where to look. His eyes, obviously, still looked swollen, but he could pass that off as a bad night’s sleep. He decided it wasn’t going to get any better, so he just took his hat down from it’s perch and put it on slowly, making sure to not reopen his other head wounds. When he pulled it down over his face, the shadow helped in hiding what was still showing of his bruises. He popped the collar up on his coat and hunkered down in it before quickly exiting the bathroom. He stopped only to grab a piece of toast, sling his backpack over his shoulder, and give his mom a half hearted kiss before running out the door. She was tired enough from her night shift that she didn’t notice his strange behavior, or the fact that he was wearing makeup. Now Steve’s only worry was school. 

Steve walked through the halls that day like a turtle. He never took off his hat or coat, and thanked God none of the teachers cared. He watched his feet like they were the most interesting things in the world, not even looking up to glance out the window in class. Time passed slowly, and every time someone cleared their throat or bumped into him he was terrified they could tell what he was hiding. He didn’t like sympathy. He didn’t need it. He could handle himself, and if he chose to stand up for people then he would. It didn’t matter to him that he got hurt in the process, and he didn’t like it when people tried to stop him from helping people. He was already sick, it’s not like getting hurt would change that. 

Finally, as the last bell rang, he thought he was in the clear. He picked up his backpack and waited for the class to empty slightly before making his way out. Just before he entered the hall, he heard someone run up behind him. Before he could react, his hat was ripped from his head. 

“So, punk. Who said you were allowed to wear hats in class, hmm? Mrs. Frinny never lets me wear one.” The forceful motion of removing Steve’s hat had ripped open the scab on the back of his head, and Steve could feel fresh blood begin to trickle into his blonde hair. He began to panic and desperately tried to snatch his hat back from the boy, but he was half his size and it was easily held out of his reach. 

“Oh no no no no no no. You aren’t getting out of this that easy. You show up a month late for school, because you were ‘busy’, and now you’re exempt from the rules? Nice try, bucko. I want to know what’s going on--wait what’s up with your face?”

Steve’s eyes shot open in fear and he abandoned his hat. He turned and ran out of the room, not caring that the boy could also clearly see the blood that was now soaking his hair. He didn’t stop, but he also really wasn’t that fast. He knew the boy was following him so he whipped around a corner and then lost himself in the crowd of students. He pulled his jacket up as high as he could and rushed out into the parking lot. He glanced around to get his bearings and made a break for home. He sighed as he felt the blood begin to drip down his neck. Tonight would be the second night in a row he had to scrub blood out of his hair.

\---------------

The second morning was no better than the first. In fact, he would’ve sworn it got worse. His eyes definitely looked puffier and his head definitely hurt more. He blamed the violent reopening of the gash on the back of his head. He knew it would scar, but who cares when it’s under your hair anyways? He applied the makeup again, but this time he didn’t have his hat. He knew that fact that he had makeup on was pretty obvious without the shade to blend it with his natural skin, but it was better than a face so covered in bruises it didn’t even look like skin. He knew his mom would notice, though, so he waited to leave his room before he heard her enter the bathroom and start her shower. He rushed out and rapped on the door twice. 

“I’m going now, mom! See you tonight!” He scrambled out the door before he even heard her reply. 

That day, Steve specifically avoided the boy who had confronted him. He considered skipping his last class, but because he knew they would call his mom (who would want a serious explanation and then definitely see his face) he decided on the lesser of the two evils. He waited until the boy had meandered into class and chosen a seat before scuttling in quietly and choosing the seat furthest from his. If the boy had tried to make eye contact, Steve wouldn’t know, because he spent the period deeply analyzing the scuff marks on his shoes. The moment the bell rang Steve sprang up for the door. He managed to make it out just before the boy caught up with him and he dissolved into the sea of kids. He looked back, and was proud to see the boy standing there, confused, obviously wondering how Steve had gotten away. He didn’t want to risk running into him again though, so he locked himself into a stall in the upstairs bathroom and waited for the halls to quiet. When he could no longer hear students loudly laughing and stomping through the halls, he exited to bathroom and began to swiftly walk towards the front exit. There was no student in sight and he smiled at his ability to avoid people when he wanted. It wasn’t exactly the best skill to have, but hey, at least he had a skill. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and felt weirdly happy as he began his walk home. Just as he began to hum to himself, his stomach jumped into his chest. He heard the sickening crack of bone and a distinct laugh that had already bored it’s sound into his brain. He turned back towards to school and looked down the alley in which he had woken up in two days prior. Sure enough, he saw Brock, alone this time, beating a new little boy in the same place he had been. Steve could even still see some of his own blood on the ground next to the kids head. This time Brock had opted for his feet instead of his fists, and was kicking the kid mercilessly in the ribs. Steve’s eyes flashed with anger. Before he knew what he was doing, he was running at Brock from behind. He kicked Brock’s legs out from under him and watched him fall to his knees before Brock whipped his head around to see his attacker. Steve could see the sparkle of humor burst into his eyes when he recognized him. 

“Look at who’s back for more! It’s Mister Big Shot! Didn’t I teach you your lesson when I left you in this alley with a hole in your head?” he reached around, grabbed Steve’s ankles and yanked them forwards. Steve fell back onto the concrete with a loud crash and felt the air rush out of his lungs. He struggled for breath as Brock got slowly to his feet and leaned over Steve. “This time, you won’t be able to walk away.” Steve couldn’t help but scream as Brock put his full weight on his small ankle. He heard a loud and painful cracking sound as his ankle broke apart. The boy he had originally been kicking had managed to crawl away and get to his feet. Steve saw him mouth I’m sorry before disappearing around the corner. He knew he wasn’t running for help. Brock ignored the fact that his first prey had gotten away because an even better one had walked straight into his trap. He smiled with a disturbing glee and began to kick Steve in the ribs. Steve’s ribs were small and brittle, and he could feel them as they threatened to break with every blow. Steve refused to give up, fighting back and crawling away while Brock continued to pummel him with kicks. He suddenly felt himself being lifted from the ground, a flash of pain in his head and then he was on the ground again. He heard Brock laugh as he looked at his fist. 

“Is this makeup? Aw, didn’t want Mommy to see your bruises?” Steve focused his eyes on the wall as Brock began kicking him again, determined to get there use it to get up. He would not lay and allow himself to be beaten. He would fight. Abruptly, the kicking in his side suddenly stopped. He gasped in relief and increased his speed towards the wall. Each time he dragged himself forwards, his entire body flashed with pain. He faintly heard punches being thrown and what he thought was the sound of Brock shouting. He dragged himself forward another foot, but his head flared up in an agonizing pain and he once again welcomed the world of darkness.

\---------------

When he woke up, it was different from the first time. He was still lying in a pool of his own blood, but he wasn’t alone. His eyes worked to focus on the boy sitting above him, staring down in a face filled with worry. 

“Are you ok?? You wouldn’t wake up, and I didn’t know if you were breathing, and I was so-” he cut off as Steve began to laugh, but then decided that hurt to much and stopped. The boy's face changed from worry to frustration. 

“This is so not funny! I thought you were dead, or something!” 

Steve coughed and spat blood into the dirt. “You don’t even know me. Why would you care?” he managed to whisper out. The boy looked at him incredulously. 

“Why would I care? Because I don’t want some new kid getting beaten to death on his third day of school! That’s why I care!” Steve rolled his eyes and moved to sit up. His entire side ached, but he’d broken a rib before and it hadn’t felt like this. He knew if he could stand the pain, he would be able to sit up just fine. He used both the wall, and-accidentally-the boy’s hand. The boy had held out his hand to help and Steve had grabbed it without even thinking. The moment he was up against the wall, he turned to face the boy. 

“Thank you for helping me. I can get myself home now.” The boy looked at Steve like he was an idiot. 

“Ok, two things. First, I think you should take a look at your ankle before you say that. And second, even if your ankle was bloody well fine, I’m not gonna leave a beaten and bloodied 6th grader on his own in Brooklyn. So you are most definitely stuck with me.” He held out his hand to shake. “I’m Bucky.” 

Steve looked away from him and glanced down at his ankle, which was definitely not supposed to be facing that way. He sighed and took Bucky’s hand. 

“Steve.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve's friendship is kindling, and Steve might not be as alone as he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for how long this took me! My schedule kind of exploded there for a few weeks. As always, I would really, really appreciate feedback! I have a couple weeks of downtime before my schedule gets hectic again, so I will do my best to have chapter 3 up before then! Love you guys! :D

"I'm just up here." Steve mumbled to Bucky as they rounded the corner to his house. He was leaning heavily on Bucky and his face was burning from humiliation because of it. No one had ever found him after a fight besides his mom, and this was so much worse. His mom at least would lecture him the entire trudge home. Bucky was just silently being there for him, holding him up with his arm wrapped around Steve's torso. On the home stretch to his house, Bucky finally spoke.

"So are you gonna tell me why your face looks like that?" He calmly asked.

Steve couldn't help but laugh. "Why do you think?"

Bucky abruptly stopped walking, causing Steve to lurch forwards and nearly fall over.  
"What I think is that you have been here for three damn days and you've apparently already been in two fights. I'm pretty sure you weren't calling Brock fat, which means he started them. You're gonna be dead in a week if he keeps coming after you-"

"Ok, first thing? He didn't start it. I did. Second thing? I would not be dead in a week. He may throw a strong punch, but he doesn't know where to hit. I've met way worse. Now can we keep going?"

Bucky looked at steve, confused. "What do you mean you started it? You punched Brock first?"

Steve sighed and tried to tug Bucky forward. "Yes. He was kicking this little kid and I decided to stop it. Seriously though, it's getting dark."

Bucky slowly began to help Steve along again. "Dude, leave that to the big kids. Brock is gonna squash you to-" This time, Steve yanked Bucky to a stop.

"Do not speak to me like I am a child who needs protecting. I may be small, but I can defend myself. I'm not weak, so don't treat me like I am." Bucky couldn't help but grin slyly as Steve hung limply onto his arm while he declared his strength. Steve just scowled back and pushed him forwards.

"Ok, ok. No need to bite my head off. Is this you?" Bucky nodded his head towards the house they were walking past.

"Yeah. You can just let me off here." Steve hobbled up to the doorway before moving his weight from Bucky to the wall. Bucky looked at him skeptically.

"Is someone in there waiting for you?"

Steve sighed, exasperated. "Yes, Bucky. My mom is waiting for me."

"So then it’s ok if I do this?” and with that, Bucky lunged forwards and slammed his hand on the doorbell. Steve rolled his eyes and then turned to stare at the porch awkwardly. They waited in silence, for what Steve knew wasn’t going to happen. Bucky cleared his throat hilariously loud until Steve awkwardly looked back up.

“There isn’t anyone coming to the door, is there Stevie.” Bucky said with a smirk.

With no reply, Steve dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out his key. Steve had the door unlocked and was limping his way inside before Bucky could say another word. “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Steve mumbled as he quickly tried to shut the door.

“Ow.”

Bucky’s foot was currently jammed in the way of the door so it couldn’t lock. “That looks way less painful in the movies.”

Steve gaped at him. “Really, I’m good now. My mom will be home soon. I swear.”

“Yeah, because after you just lied to me about this I’ll totally believe you now. You got any snacks?” Bucky pushed his way past the door easily and turned to Steve with a look of pure innocence. Steve, glaring at Bucky, shut the door and turned to stare at him. Bucky stared calmly back, keeping his face light and filled with humor. After several awkward moments, Bucky happily won the stare down when Steve finally looked away, giving in.

“Um, yeah. The kitchen’s just in there and there should be some crackers or something.” Steve may be stubborn, but he sure as hell isn’t rude. He hobbled the short few feet from his door to his couch and sunk down onto it. Bucky gleefully vanished into the kitchen before returning with a half full bag of crackers and a jar of peanut butter. He flopped himself down next to Steve, kicked his shoes off, and dumped the food in their laps. He shoved an entire cracker, completely coated in peanut butter, into his mouth before he decided to speak.

“Suh whurs yur murm?” Bucky chomped loudly on his food, making no attempt to cover his mouth as he talked. Steve humorously raised his eyebrows before snatching a peanut butter cracker of his own. He bite off as much as he could and loudly responded.

“Shehs wurkin the nigh shif at the hospial!” They both began to crack up, but Steve had to stop and swallow because he really wasn’t getting enough air. Bucky stopped and looked at Steve as he calmly sucked in several deep breaths. Steve pretended not to notice the fact that Bucky started taking smaller bites of his cracker. Bucky swallowed politely this time before he resumed the conversation.

“Wait, she works at the hospital? What time does she get back? She can check your ankle!” he looked very satisfied with himself that he had deduced this marvelous idea.

“Erhm, well, I never really know. Her night shifts vary all the time and I can’t keep ‘em all straight in my head.” Steve shrugged and looked to the floor.

“Well, I’m not leaving until she gets here anyways, so it looks like we are gonna have some time to get to know each other!”

Steve looked back up at Bucky, worriedly. “Won’t your parents be wondering where you are?”

“Nah, they’re out of town. Why do you think I had time to stick around and stalk you for nearly an hour after school today?” Bucky joked sarcastically. Steve softly laughed and shifted himself so that his ankle was propped up on his coffee table more comfortably.

“Oh, here!” Bucky snatched one of the pillows and gently placed it beneath Steve’s ankle. Steve couldn’t help but notice that when Bucky sat back down, it was closer to him than before. He could feel Bucky’s warmth radiate off his body and it sent a shiver down his spine. He hadn’t been this close to someone other than his mom or a bully in years, and it filled him with an odd sense of security. Bucky broke the spell as he abruptly spoke up.

“Ok, I have an idea! Let’s play two truths and a lie. I’ll tell you three things about me, and you have to guess which one is the lie.” Steve was pretty sure he nodded, but the reality of the night was sinking in and he finally realized how exhausted he was. And just how much his ankle hurt. He made it to the end of the first fact Bucky said, which happened to be that he apparently both swam with and got stung by a jellyfish, before his head slumped down and he fell asleep.

______________________________________________________________________________

The piercing light of morning seared into Steve’s eyes through his eyelids before he heard the front door quietly close. He absentmindedly noticed he was for some reason on his couch instead of his bed, but he was already falling back to sleep before he could figure out why. He instantly snapped awake though the moment he heard his mom screech.

“Steve! What is going on? Why is your face covered in blood? Who is this? What happened to your ankle?!?” Steve rubbed his eyes and sat up as quickly as he could, noticing while doing so that he had fallen asleep practically on top of Bucky. He too was now sitting up quickly and yawning.

“You must be Steve’s mum, mm Bucky. I brought Steve home last night, didn’ want to leave hm alone. Hope is ok.” Bucky tried to shake the sleep out of his voice, but his words still lazily slurred together. He ran his hands through his hair and desperately tried to make himself more presentable. Mrs. Rogers was still staring, horrified, at Steve’s disfigured ankle. She tore her gaze away to look at Bucky. She shook her head, clearing it for a moment, and stepped forward to weakly shake the hand Bucky had offered to her.

“I--uh--thank you. I honestly cannot tell you how grateful I am.” She seemed at a loss for words, being faced with such an unexpected moment. her gaze settled back on Steve and she seemed to snap back to the present and rushed off to retrieve her first-aid kit. Steve sighed and tried to straighten himself up before the interrogation, that he knew was coming, started. He was just about to thank Bucky and apologize for being such a nuisance before his mom’s voice rang out through the house.

“I can stitch that head wound up here, but I can’t set that ankle myself. Bucky, I’d be happy to drop you by your house on the way to the hospital!” Bucky smiled gloatingly down at Steve, who had loudly groaned at the mention of the hospital.

“That’s all right ma’am! I live only a couple blocks from here. The fresh air will do me some good!” Steve’s mom bustled back into the room, her arms laden with fresh gauze, a bottle of water, and her massive first-aid kit that is kept fully stocked at all times. She seemed distracted, and was grateful for the fact that Bucky could find his own way home.

“Alright then. Be careful. Oh, and thank you again!” She had already soaked a strip of gauze and began scrubbing the dried blood off Steve’s face. Bucky politely brushed off her thanks and shot a smirk at Steve’s annoyed face.

“See you in school Monday!” he called back to Steve as he let himself out. He breathed in the crisp morning air and felt finally awake. His muscles, stiff and sore from his awkward position under Steve, finally began to loosen and relax. He waited until he was out of sight before turning towards their school, despite it being a Saturday. The last thing he wanted to do on a beautiful day like this was ruin it by going home. He whistled a happy tune and meandered off, ready to find a fun way to spend his day.

Steve sat, staring silently at the wall across from him as his mom forcefully scrubbed the blood from his cheek. She was breathing heavily, and Steve was counting down the seconds to her explosion.

“Look, Mom, I’m--”

“Don’t you ‘Look mom’, me. I really thought middle school would be different! You said you were going to stop! You said this wouldn’t happen anymore. Your promise to me was the only reason I didn’t pull you out and homeschool you in the 5th grade. I can’t keep coming home to this, Steve. I had to work all night. Do you understand that? If that boy hadn’t found you, you might have been outside, alone, this whole time. There’s no way you could have walked home by yourself with that ankle. If you were outside all night in this weather, you could have died! Steve, you could have died!” Tears began to stream down her face and her breath began to quicken. She dropped the gauze she was holding and threw her arms around him. Her voice came in a soft, desperate whisper. "I can't lose you too, Steve. I just can't." Her body trembled in Steve's small arms and he worriedly tightened his grip. His mom was the strongest person he knew, and she was the one breaking down.

"I know, mom. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." He whispered gently as tears began to form in his eyes, too.

After staying locked in eachothers arms for at least a minute, Steve’s mom took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. She sat back on her heels and brushed aside the emotion. “Ok. Let’s go get that ankle patched up.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Steve hopped quickly into his room, clumsily trying to keep his wrapped up ankle off the floor. He fumbled around in the back of his closet before yanking out his old crutches. It had only taken a couple of sprained ankles for his mom to just buy him his own pair. The doctor said he was stuck on them for two weeks. Steve could handle that. This was definitely classified as minor compared to what he’d had before. It still sucked though. He heaved a sigh and got to work remembering how to use them. His ankle was wrapped up snuggly in a tight brace, and Steve was beyond thankful it wasn’t a cast. Nothing drew more attention than a cast, and the last thing he wanted was to give Brock the pleasure of seeing him broken. No one cared about a brace though, so neither did Steve. He flopped down on his bed after several successful laps around his room on the crutches. He propped up his foot and unzipped his backpack, finally deciding to catch up on his homework. He’d missed a month, so he had a hell of a lot to do. Staring disgustedly at his enormous pile of books inside, he shut his eyes and grabbed a random one from the middle. He yanked it out and let everything else crash to the floor. He looked down at the book he had chosen and groaned.

“Oh, great. Math. Why did it have to be math?” Steve threw it open and painfully got to work.

______________________________________________________________________________

He had no idea what time it was when he woke up. He looked up, and his homework page came up with him. He pulled the drool-covered page off his face and squinted at his watch. His eyes slowly unblurred as it came into focus: 2:08 am. Great. Just, great. He glanced at his math homework and realized he’d fallen asleep before he’d even finished the first chapter. The first chapter out of the six he had to catch up on. He groaned and maneuvered his twisted body into a sitting position. He yawned and stretched, letting his eyes adjust to the light.

“You drool a lot when you sleep.”

Steve yelped and jumped so high he fell of his bed. The random voice began laughing hysterically before realizing it was late and shutting up.

“Sorry! Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was walking past your house on my way home and I saw that your light was still on. I thought I would come see how your ankle is!” Bucky was standing outside Steve’s window, leaning on the edge and smiling. Steve stared at Bucky, dumbfounded.

“Dude! It’s like, two am! What are you doing here?”

“I told you! I saw your light, wanted to see you ankle, saw you drooling instead. Not that complicated. So how is it, baby face?”

Steve was still trying to wrap his mind around what the hell was going on. He stuttered, trying to focus on what Bucky had said.

“How-how’s what?”

“Your ankle! Jesus christ, did Brock break your brain too?” He lifted the window up a bit more and jumped up so he could sit on the windowsill. He swung one of his legs inside and straddled it, leaning his weight against the side of the window. He turned his face and flashed a smirk at Steve.

Steve finally came to his senses. “Oh. Yeah, erm, it’s fine. Not broken. I gotta use these stupid things for two weeks.” He kicked at the crutches on his floor with his good foot and sat back down on the bed. “But what are you even doing out? I thought you went home this morning! Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Oh, you know, raves, ragers, partaaays! They happen every night all over town. Just follow the stench of beer, sweat, and puke. It’ll always lead you to a good time.”

Steve chuckled suspiciously. “Yeah, sounds awesome. Well, if you will excuse me, oh Mr. Party King, I need to actually sleep in my actual bed. So…” Steve lept towards the window and shoved Bucky off into the bushes. Bucky yelped just as loud as Steve had and face planted into the dirt. He jumped up with a messy face and big smile.

“Mr. Party King! Very original. See you later, punk!” and with a final laugh, Steve shut the window and then quickly the blinds. He breathed heavily for a moment before peeking back out. He couldn’t help but smile wider as he watched Bucky stupidly twirling around and whistling a happy tune. He stayed there, smiling through the curtains, until Bucky had twirled his way out of Steve’s sight. Steve turned off his light and flopped down onto his bed with a blissful sigh. He had a lot of work to do and his pain killers had just worn off, but he was overwhelmed with a weird feeling of content.


	3. Chapter 3

Monday mornings are the worst. However, Monday mornings with crutches are nothing short of pure hell. After a long morning of hopping around trying to get ready in time, Steve now had to walk to school. His mom had been called for the early morning shift at the hospital, so Steve was on his own to travel the six blocks in the cold. He grudgingly pulled his massive backpack onto his shoulders before picking his crutches back up. He had swung the door open and started making his way out when suddenly, someone popped out from behind the corner.

“Morning punk! Jeez, I’ve been waiting so long for you we’re both gonna miss the pledge of allegiance! Oh God...what if America doesn’t love us anymore?!” Bucky had a look of hilariously sarcastic concern plastered onto his face. Steve had been so startled that he had fallen back into his house and dropped one of his crutches.

“Bucky! You scared the hell out of me!” Steve couldn’t believe that this was the second time in two days that Bucky had shown up at his house and scared the hell out of him. He couldn’t help but think that this was most likely something he would have to get used to. 

“Sorry, but you took forever and I got bored. I get weird when I’m bored. And when I’m drunk. And when I’m stoned. Ok, I’ve never been stoned. But I would probably be weird when I’m stoned. Let’s just go with the fact that I’m always stoned. No! Weird! I meant to say weird there.” 

Steve laughed, even though he didn’t want to. He wanted to stare at Bucky like he was crazy, because that’s what he was. But Bucky put him at ease in a way no one but his mom had ever done before. 

“Ok stoner, but we really need to get to school. I’ve already missed a month, I can’t miss any more.” Steve righted his crutch that had gone flying and hopped back outside, locking the door behind him.

“Wait! Gimme your backpack first!” Bucky said as Steve begin swinging down the driveway.

“No, I’ve got it.” Steve said resolutely. 

“Dude, you’re on crutches. You have to let me carry your backpack for you. Can you imagine what the chicks will think of me when they see me walk in with my friend on crutches, and he’s carrying his own backpack? Can you imagine what that will do to my gentleman boy cred?”

Steve looked at Bucky, ready to stare him down and win this time. However, the moment he made eye contact with him, something inside of him twisted in a way he had never felt. He found himself balancing on one crutch and slipping his backpack off before he even knew what was happening. He saw Bucky gleefully grin and snatch the backpack, then pretend to fall onto the pavement from it’s weight. Steve felt a huge smile burst onto his face and his insides twisted even tighter. He shook his head and picked up the speed towards the school, trying to turn his mind to other things. 

Bucky laughed and put the backpack on backwards, so now he had his own on his back and Steve’s on his stomach. He strolled along with Steve, staying at whatever pace Steve chose, when all of a sudden he burst out in song.

“OH what beautiful mornin’, OH what a beautiful day, I’ve got a beautiful FEEELIN’, EVERYTHING’S goin’ my WAAAAAAY!” Bucky sounded slightly better than a dying cat as he screeched the lyrics loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear. Steve cracked up and slapped Bucky’s leg with his crutch.

“Shhhh!!! There are old people in my neighborhood that like to sleep in!” Steve said as he tried desperately not to laugh more. 

Bucky slapped his hand over his mouth comically before shouting as loud as he could to the surrounding house. “OH! SORRY OLD PEOPLE!”

Steve snorted and failed at containing his laughter. “Are you sure you aren’t stoned?” 

“Are you kiddin’? If I were stoned, I wouldn’t be half this hilarious. Drugs can do many things, but make you as funny as me? IMPOSSIBLE.” Bucky grinned widely, showing off his white teeth. 

In no time at all, they were at school. Steve felt a twinge of sadness when he and Bucky split off down different hallways, but only to laugh again as Bucky came racing back around the corner, still wearing Steve’s backpack. He took his backpack back from Bucky and swung off to class, the loud click of his crutches echoing down the empty hallway. 

____________________________________

Steve threw his crutches into the back of his closet, glad to be rid of them after the two long weeks of doing everything on them. His ankle was still tender, and he placed his weight on it gingerly, but it held and that was good enough for Steve. He and Bucky had hung out almost every day in the past two weeks, and today was no exception. Today they were planning to head to the park so that Bucky could teach Steve basketball. Bucky had spent the last two weeks sitting down with Steve somewhere, so Steve was happy to finally spend some time up and about with him. Even though sports had never really been Steve’s thing, with Bucky he was optimistic it would be fun. He quickly pulled on his jacket and zipped it up to fit snugly beneath his chin. He even pulled a hat on over his short, choppy hair and pulled gloves over his small hands. The last thing he needed right now was to get sick again. He hadn’t even told Bucky why he’d missed that first month of the school yet. Steve can avoid people when he wants to, and he’s apparently pretty good at dodging conversations, too. He turned to face his mirror and fixed the hair that was awkwardly sticking out the front of his hat. He realized while he was checking his teeth for food that Bucky didn't give a crap, and he didn't even know why he was doing this. He took one last look at himself before bounding up the stairs and out the door, only stopping to peck his mom on the cheek. It took him longer than it should have for him to get to the park, and he was stepping carefully on his injured leg the whole way. He turned the corner to see Bucky swish a three pointer. He felt suddenly self conscious, seeing Bucky dribble the ball between his legs with ease and grin at Steve. He didn't have a clue how to even catch a ball, let alone dribble it. 

“Hey, punk! Catch!” Bucky tossed the ball he was holding directly towards steve. Steve's eyes grew wide as the ball hurtled towards him. It slammed into his stomach with enough force to knock the wind out of him and send him reeling backwards, with Steve only barely managing to catch himself. Bucky, laughing, waved it off as nothing (to Steve's great relief). Steve walked over to where Bucky stood and tossed the ball back, struggling to quickly and quietly get his breath back. 

"Hey, jerk. Way to toss a ball!" Steve sarcastically joked. "If that's how you're planning on tossing it, I don't think we're ever gonna win." 

Bucky just smiled and dribbled the ball aimlessly. "So how much have you played?"

Steve flushed, and he knew is showed on his pale skin. "Uh, well, I've never actually played before."

Bucky scrunched up his forehead. "Like at all? Didn't you ever play with your dad, or something?"

Steve shook his head. "Nah, I never got a chance. He was always pretty sick. Before he, uh, passed away." 

Bucky caught his basketball immediately from his constant dribbling. "I'm sorry, dude. I didn't know." He surprisingly didn't look embarrassed or awkward, like people normally did. He just looked concerned.

Steve waved it off. "It's been a couple years now. Anyways, I guess it's up to you to show me the ropes!"

Bucky bowed deeply and formally, and spoke in a terrible British accent. "I take this mission of great importance with honor and gratitude. I pray I shall not disappoint!" 

Bucky's face lit up as Steve burst out in laughter. "Ok jerk, toss me the ball. I'm pretty sure the first step is for me to figure out to actually catch it." 

Bucky passed Steve the ball, much slower this time, and steve caught it with ease. Bucky walked over to join Steve at the center of the court, continuing his sarcastic British persona. "'Twas a terrible catch. Your form was disgraceful. Now, the most basic part of basketball is the dribble. Let us begin with that, hm?" Steve just laughed and socked Bucky in the arm. "Very funny. Are you gonna start teaching me or am I gonna have to punch you again?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you punch me? I thought a small fly had landed on me." Bucky said. Steve dropped the ball and and raised his fist just as Bucky took off running. Steve found himself grinning as he dashed off after him. "Get back here, you jerk! Take the punch like a man!" Steve propelled himself forward and suddenly found himself caught up with Bucky. He jumped as hard as he could and tackled Bucky to the ground. They rolled together in the dirt before they came to a stop. Steve and Bucky laid beside each other, filthy and laughing. Without turning his head, Steve lifted his arm and punched Bucky in the shoulder. Bucky sat up, still laughing. "Fine. You got your punch in. Ready to play some ball?" Steve looked up into Bucky's smiling face, red from the cold and the running. 

"Yeah. I'm gonna crush you."

Bucky snorted. "You don't even know the rules!"

"Fine. I'll figure out the rules, and THEN I'll crush you." Steve stated as he scrambled up out of the dirt. 

"Sure, punk. Whatever you say. First one back to the court gets dibs on first offense!" 

Steve, not knowing exactly what that meant, took off running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! I am SO sorry for that massive break, especially since this isn't that long of a chapter. I hope it's a good one though! Just so you all know, it looks like I'll be taking a short break from this story. I have had lots of requests to write a full series for BBRae, and I'm going to try and get a couple chapters of that posted before I come back to this. Thanks for being so amazing everyone! :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve would like to think that he and Bucky are best friends now, but it has only been two weeks. Does Bucky really need Steve in the way Steve needs Bucky?

Steve still hated basketball.

 

“Come on, man, you can do this! Just toss the ball gently into the hoop. Like this.” Bucky graceful lobbed the ball over his head, and with a beautiful swish it scored. Steve awkwardly grabbed the ball as it bounced around on the ground. He mimicked the way Bucky stood: feet apart, one hand bent back holding the ball above his head. He let his wrist throw the ball up, and…

 

The ball clattered off the backboard and bounced loudly away.

 

Steve huffed and chased after the ball for the umpiteenth time that day. By the time he got back, Bucky was looking at him studiously.

 

“I have a theory!” he said, suddenly returning to his outrageous british persona. He circled around Steve, looking him up and down. “I conclude that basketball is not the sport for you.”

 

Steve scoffed loudly. “Oh really? How could you tell?”

 

Bucky stood up straight and annoyingly replied. “Well, there were several observations that led me to said conclusion. The largest and most glaring is that in all the time we have been out here you have yet to sink a single shot.”

 

Steve shot Bucky the most furious death glare he could muster. However, after a long day of basketball (if you could even call what he was doing “basketball”), he didn’t have much muster left. He was tired, his lungs felt tight from the cold air, and his ankle was starting to throb.

 

Bucky seemed to realize Steve had begun to leave the joking mood. He dropped the british accent and walked over to Steve. “It’s fine, dude. You don’t need to be good at basketball. Look at me, I suck at-”

 

“Singing?” Steve supplied.

 

Bucky stopped and slowly turned his head to look Steve in the eyes, before he bust out laughing. “Well, look who's being a smart ass now!” He swung his arm around Steve’s shoulders and twirled him around towards home. “I’m cold, let’s go back to your place.”

 

Steve shivered under Bucky’s arm, even though his body heat radiated through his thick coat. “I am seriously craving some hot chocolate right now.”

 

“Ooo, your mom totally looks like the type of mom that somehow makes the best hot chocolate ever. What is it, secret family recipe?” Bucky looked down at Steve, putting their faces on inches apart.

 

Steve laughed and looked away. “Ah yes, the secret recipe involving pre-made powder from the grocery store. Hey, she adds cream!”

 

Bucky laughed loudly. “Well, I cannot wait for this secret recipe which you call “pow-der”. With cream!”

 

Steve smiled and let himself lean more heavily onto Bucky. His ankle was still not much fun to walk on, and Bucky was like Steve’s very own portable heater. At least, that’s what Steve told himself.

 

_______________________

 

Steve sat in his room, downing the last bit of his “pow-der”. In the middle of their cocca, Bucky had received a text from his Mom and headed out pretty quickly. As he left he had promised to text Steve later, so Steve was currently sitting at his desk with his phone layed out in front of him. Sure, he had homework out too, but he was finding a hard time focusing on it.

 

“Ok, ok. If x equals four, then that means that y equals....ummmm….y...equals….”

 

BZZZZZZZZZ

 

Steve snatched his phone off the table faster than he would care to admit.

 

_It feels weird txtng u at a nrml human hour instead of showing up on ur window at 2_

 

Steve smiled and went to text back, but his phone buzzed again.

 

_Oh god plz dont tell me ur a sticklr 4 txtng grammar  
I hve big thumbs i swear_

 

Steve laughed, and his fingers flew across the keys.

 

_Hey, don't worry, I'm not. I do, however, have small thumbs, so I will keep our conversation slightly more bearable._

 

Steve set his phone down for a moment, determined to finish his problem, but his phone buzzed again almost immediately.

 

 _Fuck_  
U sound like ur in englsh class  
Im gonna hve 2 up my game  
Maybe 2morrow

 

Steve shook his head, even though he still had a silly little smile stuck on his face. Really, Bucky? He was trying to think of a witty response when his phone buzzed again. Jeez, this dude could text!

 

 _Except tht 2morrow we wont be txtng_  
We wll b TALKNG  
yaaaay school  
:(

 

Steve laughed. He typed quickly so he could get a word in this time.

 

_Yes, for which I have so much homework to do it’s not even funny. My math teacher makes me want to DIE  
WHAT THE HELL IS ALGEBRA AND WHY DO I NEED IT IN MY LIFE_

 

 _nobody knos, dude. nobody knos._  
One time ths kid in my class said he used it at the store  
I call bullshit  
Becuz guess what  
We hve these magical little thngs  
Called SMARTPHONES  
and on said smartphones  
IS A CALCULATOR

 

Steve couldn't help but laugh again as he replied.

 

_THANK you  
Let's start a petition_

 

Steve oddly didn't hear from Bucky for several minutes. Enough time for him to finish another three godawful algebra problems. Halfway through the fourth, with Steve thinking maybe Bucky was too busy to text him, his phone buzzed again.

 

 _Shit_  
Sry I disappeared, i g2g  
C u 2morrow :)

 

Steve sighed, wishing they could keep talking.

 

_Alright. Bye, see you tomorrow :)_

Steve plugged his phone in, forced his way through another two pages of math, and then fell straight to sleep.

 

___________________________

 

Steve happily skipped (ok he didn't really skip, Steve is in middle school, he is a freaking ADULT) down the street to school the next morning. He was happy to be down the crutches and up a friend. He got to the school with fifteen minutes to spare and glanced around the yard. He didn't see Bucky anywhere, and Steve couldn't find him at any of their regular places. (If you could call the places they'd been hanging out at for only two weeks “regular”). He went about his day, keeping himself, as usual, in the shadows of the kids. He practically ran to his last class, ready to interrogate Bucky about where he'd been all day. He quickly and quietly took his seat and stared at the door, waiting for Bucky to come strolling in. But, even after class started, Bucky never showed. Steve's mind went into overdrive. He hated being an overthinker, but hell, that's what he was. They had only been friends for two weeks. Even though that was a lifetime to Steve, that was probably the usual for Bucky. He didn't show up for school and didn't bother to text Steve? Steve wanted to text him, but he didn't want to look desperate.

 

“Oh my god, Steve,” Steve mumbled to himself and rolled his eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

 

Steve pulled his backpack into his lap and tried to discreetly pull his phone out.

 

_Where are you?_

 

Steve tapped his foot anxiously, a million thoughts running through his head. When his phone buzzed, he nearly dropped his phone trying to unlock it so quickly.

 

_Steve, this is James’ mother. Please do not be texting him during school hours. I have confiscated his phone for the day. You will have to find him without texting him._

 

Steve, confused, slipped his phone back into his backpack. Ok, so he wasn't purposely not texting him. But if his mom thought he was here, and he wasn't, where was he?

 

And wait-did she just call him _James_?

 

Steve found himself walking much slower home. He had been hoping to hang out with Bucky after school, but now all he would get to do was finish his homework and watch TV. His mom had left a note about having the night shift again, so he was on his own for dinner. There was also a much larger, much more capitalized note, saying if she found him dead in a ditch the next day she’d kill him. Which, obviously, failed to make much sense, but Steve got her point.

 

As Steve approached his house, he pulled his backpack around and fumbled for his keys.

 

“And the punk finally decides to show up!”

 

Steve jumped with a shriek (that he was not proud of) and his keys clattered to the ground. “Bucky? Jesus, is this going to be a regular occurrence?”

 

“Well, as long as I keep finding scaring you _hilarious_ , yes.” Bucky looked up at Steve from his spot sitting in the center of the driveway, and Steve stared at him incredulously for a moment.

 

“...so, are you gonna let me in, or are we just gonna stay out in the cold forever?”

 

Steve snapped out of his shock and took a deep sniff of the cold air. “I don't know, I kinda like it out here. It's brisk, refreshing, mildly Christmassy-”

 

“My fingers are blue and I can hear your teeth chattering. Open the damn door!”

 

Steve just rolled his eyes and picked his keys up off the ground. “Well I don't know what you expect us to do. The house is empty and the cupboards are bare. Tomorrow's shopping day. Wanna do my algebra for me?”

 

Bucky's eyes lit up. “Oh. My. God. Steve Rogers wants me to do his homework for him?? HOW COULD I POSSIBLY REFUSE?! Oh wait yeah, like this: No.”

 

Steve dumped his backpack in the middle of the floor and shrugged all the way up to his ears sarcastically. “Well, I'm plum out of ideas. Hmmmm...I guess we could start with me asking you where you decided to disappear to today. And why did your mom text me back from your phone? And call you _James_?”

 

Bucky sighed. “I had some-uh-stuff to do today. My mom took my phone last night after we stopped texting. She can be pretty touchy about a lot of things. And yes, congratulations, you learned my real first name. James Buchanan Barnes, at your service.” Bucky curtsied, which made Steve laugh.

 

“I'm sorry, but...Buchanan? Is that even a name?”

 

“Apparently he was some war hero on my mom's side, like 8 generations back.” Bucky's voice got super nasally as he started to impersonate his mom. “We felt it would be disrespectful to our heritage if we didn't acknowledge him.” Bucky scoffed. “Thanks mom. Just for that, now everyone calls me Bucky but YOU still call me James. She really does need to make up her mind about this.”

 

“So who called you Bucky first? Who even got Bucky from Bu-Buh-I can’t even say it.”

 

“It’s Byou-can-un. And I think it was my weird Uncle. I was really little, and I was pouting while my family was over. My mom called me by my full name, and I remember my Uncle just laughing. When he left that day, he called me “Buddy Bucky”. Ever since then I kinda just started introducing myself as Bucky. My mom’s never caught on though.”

 

“Well maybe I should start going by a cool middle name thing. Lets see. My middle name is Grant, so It could be-”

 

Bucky’s eyes lit up and he cut Steve off with a screech.

 

“GRAN. Nonono-wait-it needs a Y at the end like mine. GRANNY.” With that, Bucky lost it. He entire face lit up as he burst into his loud, uncontrollable hyena laughter. Bucky hobbled forward a few steps, mimicking a walker and making the best old-man face one could when laughing that hard. With tears running down his cheeks, he tried to make Granny jokes, but he was laughing so hard he couldn’t finish any of them.

 

“Let’s go bake cookies-heheheheheh-no, grandma, no, I don’t need that new sweater-HAHAHAHA-awh, more socks, just for me-you shouldn’t have-”

 

Steve tried to stay mad, but Bucky’s smile was extremely contagious. He broke, and as he began to laugh along with Bucky, he knew he had no reason to be worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I want to quickly apologize for my lack of uploading. I know I said I'd leave this alone for a bit to work on some BBxRae works, but right around the time Chapter 3 went up my life went from busy to all out HECTIC. Honestly, I've had this chapter (the way you see it now) done and edited for quite a while. However, I felt I owed you guys a longer chapter than this, so I've been waiting and hoping to get a chance to extend it. But then some difficult things happened in my personal life. I truly don't know when I will be able to write more, so I'm giving you all I have. I hope to not disappear for too long, but I don't want to make any promises I can't keep. I love you all for reading my works, and I always appreciate feedback! Have a great holiday season! :)


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